


SYOC

by MrSnydeStoried



Series: Star Wars Stories [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: SYOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:42:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSnydeStoried/pseuds/MrSnydeStoried
Summary: I'm interested in writing a story in the Star Wars Universe with a villainous OC. I would also like to include characters that you guys create in my story. If you have any sort of OC for the Star Wars Universe, I would love to hear about them. Just message me the character, or leave it in a comment, and I'll read it and pick some for my story.
Series: Star Wars Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580971
Comments: 4
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

This is a sort of character sheet for the OC’s. This story will be set between Empire and Return of the Jedi.   
Name:  
Age:  
Species:  
Gender:  
Faction:  
Three positive traits (e.g intelligence, strength, etc.) :

Three flaws:

Backstory:

Insecurity or fear:

Source of inspiration or pride:

Any Secrets?

Abilities:

Equipment:

Aesthetic:

Describe their personality/ morality:

Other Notes:


	2. My charecter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My sheet for my character.

This is a sort of character sheet for the OC’s. 

Name: Lottan Iliam  
Age: 28  
Species: human  
Gender: Male  
Faction: Imperials, ISB  
Three positive traits (e.g intelligence, strength, etc.) :  
Intelligence, Charisma, Brutality  
Three flaws:  
Emotional, Uncompromising, obsessive  
Backstory:  
His father was a naval officer in the republic, and his mother was a nabooian biochemist. On transport between their villa on Naboo and Coruscant, they were captured by the Grisks. They tortured his father to death for his information on the defenses of the newly formed empire. His mother and the other members of the ship’s crew were eventually brainwashed into serving the Grisks. He, however, nursed vengeance and dreamed of someday returning to the Empire which he romanticized to the extreme. After learning all he could about Grisk tactics, combat, and most importantly, persuasion, he killed the grisks and a few slaves and fled in their ship to the empire. He then joined the army and worked his way up to become the deputy director of the ISB in charge of interrogations and reeducation.   
Insecurity or fear: He fears the empire might truly be a force for evil, and that the grisks may have been right in some of their propaganda.

Source of inspiration or pride: Admires the efficiency of the Empire, is extremely proud of his crew and is proud of the prison facility he has constructed beneath his family’s villa. 

Any Secrets? He has a massive interrogation facility within his family’s villa, that contains hundreds of rebels in carbonite. His past is also a secret from all except the top brass of the empire. 

Abilities: Expert in manipulation and interrogation. Excellent hand to hand combatant, and an accomplished sniper. 

Equipment: A specialized helmet made of a contained plasma shield. The patterns on the shield give a feeling of dizziness to anyone who looks at them and confuses the targeting matrix of droids. His gauntlets are capable of creating an electric charge similar to an electro staff, which he uses to stun his opponents. Also a set of traditional battle armor. 

Aesthetic: A nebulous glowing purple head on pure white armor. He has a long white cape, and his hands glow when clenched into fists. 

Describe their personality/ morality: He believes that any death in the empire’s territory is a tragedy. He wants to see every rebel become a happy and productive member of the Empire. 

Other Notes: While he’s an accomplished sniper and fighter, he is only familiar with Grisk technology. This means he is a poor shot with anything less than a sniper rifle, and a terrible pilot. He has to rely on the crew of his ship for these services, and he is extremely vulnerable when separated from them.


	3. Intro

The man in the white armor took a deep breath and smiled. The synthetic floral scent of imperial cleaning solvent filled his nostrils, inflated his lungs, and coursed through his veins. He felt rejuvenated, and his tired muscles thrilled with fresh energy. The scent reminded him of his home and childhood, and he watched beatifically as the janitorial mouse droid whirred by. He started down the immaculate white halls, following the droid. He would have been almost invisible in the halls, white plasteel armor and white cape against polished white cape appeared to be nothing more than a three-dimensional extension of the bulkhead. Even his face was pale, and his teeth were as sparkling white as his ship. The only things differentiating him from the retrofitted Corellian corvette were his dark eyes, golden curls, and the shimmering gold imperial crest emblazoned over his left breast. An imperial marine in a jumpsuit passed him in the opposite direction heading towards the warm meals and showers of the crew quarters. The man’s number was RF-791, and his name was Haro Vancil, he had been hand-selected for this crew despite his limited combat experience on account of his quick wit and loyalty. The two men exchanged friendly greetings and shared a joke as they passed each other, both came away smiling. The man thought back to the speech he’d made when his crew had set out for their first covert mission.   
“Welcome to the Soothsayer” He had said. “The only ship where smiles are a part of the uniform.” He had meant it to. His work was as enjoyable as it was fulfilling, especially when he had the rare privilege of going on one of his raids.   
He finally reached his destination and ran through a brief mental checklist. He reassured himself that he was unarmed, the most important item on the list. He patted himself down and was relieved to find a large metal collar attached magnetically to his belt. Lastly, he checked that the long rectangular box had been placed in its assigned cabinet. He took a deep, steadying breath and opened the sliding door.   
The sullen human woman inside was sitting on a bunk, occupying as little volume as possible. Despite having access to a large plush mattress, she perched only on the very edge, as if afraid the bed might try to bight her at any moment. She gave the overall impression of a spring about to snap, every line and contour of her body practically radiating tension. He didn’t blame her either, her wrists and face were bruised, surviving as no doubt painful reminders that she was a prisoner in imperial custody. The wrist bruising was the result of the manacles that she had been forced to wear after she had punched one of his subordinates in the mouth. The face bruising had been an indirect result of that; when she had been unable to catch herself when she had tripped during a failed escape attempt. She had mocha skin and dark hair and was wearing an unpleasant assortment of rough fabrics and poorly fitted leathers. He mentally checked his information on her, before clearing his throat addressing her for the first time. 

“May I come in?” He asked, his voice resonant and refined.   
“Do I have a choice?” She shot back.   
“All the choice in the world. This is your home. I want you to feel comfortable living in it. That means I’m not going to come in unless you say I can. If you don’t want me in your room, I’ll simply sit outside.” In contradiction to his words, he took an almost imperceptible step into the room, managing to fill and cross the threshold at the same time.   
“Fine, play your game. Let’s just get this over with.” She huffed and leaned back on the bed, more to avoid looking at him than for relaxation.   
He glided into the room and sat cross-legged against the back wall. He reached behind him and opened a hidden cabinet on the wall. He withdrew the box that had been stashed earlier. He lifted the top off revealing teapot and two cups on a tea tray like she’d seen core world people use in old holos. His gauntleted finger pressed a button and two legs swung out turning the tray into a small table. With a touch of another button coils within the table heated and within a moment steam was billowing from the pot.   
“Come, sit with me,” He gestured at a space opposite him, in the center of the room.  
“I’m good, thanks,” She said retreating into the bunk.  
“At least take some tea.”   
“Fine but only because you imperial bastards have kept me so damned dehydrated.” She grumbled as she crossed to take the cup.  
“If you wanted water you only had to ask,” He chided as he poured the steaming liquid into the cup and handed it to her.   
“I didn’t want to talk to any of you.”   
“You know, that’s fair.” He chuckled.  
“So,” She said, as she appraised him. “You’re the eidolon. Not what I expected.”   
“Thought I’d be taller, hm? I get that a lot. It’s a cliche for a reason, you know.” He grinned cheerily.   
The woman found herself suppressing a smile at the joke. She was uncomfortably disarmed by the comment and took a sip of tea to hide her expression.   
“So you seem to know who I am, by codename at least. I never did understand why the rebels decided to give me that name, but I’m flattered by it nevertheless. My real name is Major Lottan Iliam. I am deputy director of the ISB and the commanding officer of this vessel. And you are Rinma Jarad, first officer to captain Alex Hawthorne of the Unreliable.”   
“And a citizen of the Empire. With rights.” She interjected, setting down her half-empty teacup.   
“I suppose so.” he mused, “Although technically as an officer of the ISB I can keep you in custody under suspicion of treason for up to a week, indefinitely if I find you to be abating the rebel alliance. And, to be frank, we both know I will.” He smirked as he took a sip of tea.   
Rinma kept her face neutral under the accusation. She had played sabaac more than a few times in her life, and her bluffs were second to none.   
“You can search the ship, or ask anyone in the crew. We run a reputable merchant ship, and we have the logs to prove it.” She said indignantly.  
“Oh I know, you have been very crafty. Operating just on the edge of legality. Your credentials are earned, your fees are paid, even your coolant is in regulation. That was your first mistake. No one, and I do mean no one, outside of imperial senators and the navy keeps that tight a ship. For sun’s sake, even the navy doesn’t usually keep everything so orderly, unless a superior officer is coming for an inspection.”  
Rinma smirked at him. “So what you’re telling me is that obeying the laws is a crime now?”   
He seemed genuinely taken aback by the comment.   
“What? No, that’s not what I’m saying.” He gave an embarrassed half-smile as he said it.  
She chose to advance with her momentum   
“If you’ve wrongfully detained us, and delayed our shipment, it’s not us you’re gonna have to deal with. I wonder, what will Governor Orth say when he finds out you delayed the shipment we’re bringing him? I can’t imagine he’ll be too happy. Do you, as a major and a deputy director have the political capital it takes to withstand the anger of a governor? I don’t think so. Let us go, and maybe we won’t mention you when we fill out our reports.”  
Now it was Rinma’s turn to sit back smugly as she swallowed the last dregs of her tea. These imperials were all the same. If they ever had any sort of trust in their organization maybe bluffing their way out of a situation would be hard for the rebels. As it stood though, all you had to do was smirk and throw around a big name you overheard in a cantina, and they just crumbled to dust. She saw Lottan chewing on his words, she could practically see his thought process running through his head.  
Finally, he caught her off guard by simply saying “Yes.”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“Don’t be.” He chucked. “I said yes, I do have that kind of political capital. I could replace Orth in a heartbeat if I had any reason to replace HER.” He emphasized the last word and leaned in to refill his cup, watching her eyes widen in surprise. “Don’t worry you didn’t give anything away. I already knew you were rebel material before that little slip-up. Most of your crew is innocent and at least your captain is guilty, that much I knew days ago. You were a curiosity though. I couldn’t be sure if you were loyal until we boarded you this morning. We checked the cargo of course, but it was in your cabin that I found most interesting.” WIth that Lottan reached beneath the table and removed a datapad that had been adhered to its bottom. He didn’t actually need to read the contents, they were already committed to memory, but the show of doing so was important to him. “Quite a library you’ve accrued. Isval’s Sacrifice? The Rebels of Lothal? The Legend of Obi Wan-Kenobi? I have an admiral friend who could read into the art you have in your room but even a fool can see the pattern in those books. You seem to be fond of stories of rebellion, usually with heroic sacrifices. So tell me Rinma, do you want to die?”   
The question hit her like a loading droid. “I-I don’t want to die.” She stammered.  
“Hm. Perhaps I need to rephrase. Do you want to be a martyr? I can see in your eyes that you do. You want to be a legend. You want to stand against the forces of tyranny, be remembered as a hero, is that it? But we both know you can’t. You’re just a low ranking member of the Alliance. You’re little more than a smuggler of secrets you’re not even allowed to know. Your captain stores them in his head, because, as a bothan, he’s nearly immune to interrogations. Your precious alliance doesn’t even trust you enough to tell you what you’re supposed to know. Are these really the people you want to die for?”  
“I’d rather die fighting for my freedom than live as the emperor’s slave.” She spat.  
Lottan grinned. “So you ARE a part of the Alliance. I thought so but I wasn’t sure, and it’s just one of those things you want to have proof for. Frankly, I thought it was just your captain, and you were just a vitriolic smuggler, but when you called me by my code name, I decided to investigate further. The Eidolon, Vader’s opposite, easily the best piece of fiction your alliance has invented. You believe that I am some form of rebel hunter, who executes all the foes I encounter. In reality, I am just a teacher, I teach poor mislead people like you the truth about the empire. Today, Rinma, you will be my pupil.”  
The abrupt subject change, as well as accidentally outing herself, left Rinma feeling off-balance. She felt dizzy and confused.  
“Your pupil?” was all she could think to say.  
“I want to show you something, something you know, but have been hiding from yourself. I want to show you that while you consider the empire to be evil it is really the rebellion that are the antagonists. The empire doesn’t want you to die. It isn’t necessary for you to be a martyr to prove your worth to us. We already believe you are valuable, just by being alive. But the rebellion? They want you to die. They don’t trust you, they don’t value you, to them, you’re nothing but a pawn, and unless you let me help you they WILL kill you. Not in a glorious fashion, not as a martyr, they will execute you as a traitor.”  
“They wouldn’t do that.” she murmured, only half believing it.  
“Yes, they would.” He said, leaning forward to look her in the eyes, his face a mask of concern. “When they hear from your captain that you were captured the Eidolon, the director of re-education and interrogation at the ISB, and were let go unharmed they’ll think you turned on them. Especially when they see you somehow got a bacta treatment for otherwise minor bruising.”  
RInma looked down at her wrists in horror watching the bruises fade away. She stared at the teapot, knowing that he had somehow integrated the taste of the medicine in with the beverage. Had the been dehydrating her on purpose, to make sure she drank the tea? And if what he was saying was true, that he really was top brass at ISB and not the unstoppable killing machine she’d been lead to believe, then he held all the chips. She knew that the high command would want her dead. They might torture her, and would likely kill her. Even if they didn’t, no one would ever trust her again. She imagined briefly being subjected to a lifetime of whispers behind her back, of sidelong glances, and being stuck on unimportant duties. No matter what happened here, her life with the rebellion was over, and they both knew it.   
“What are you offering me?” she said at long last.  
“A deal, the best deal you’re likely to receive.” He said leaning back and typing something into the datapad. “You give me access to the crew’s private logs, and I’ll arrange for you to be ‘killed’. I’ll get this information anyways from my slicer droids, but you’ll save me a couple of hours if you help me now. Your crew will go to wherever it is you’re really heading and they’ll tell of you’re vile murder at the hands of an imperial official. You’ll be seen by all as a martyr, just like you want, and you get to live in peace for the years to come. It really is the best of both worlds.”  
“I’m not going to betray the rebellion.” The words sounded more desperate than Rinma had intended.  
“Why not? They would betray you in a heartbeat. Also, the information in those logs is tactically worthless. I only want it so I can figure out which of your crew members are innocent so I can let them go. Giving it to me lets me save them from unnecessary suffering, nothing more. Every second you hold out is one in which I could have sent them on their way.”  
“But I’ll be betraying Alex. I can’t do that. He’s like a father to me.”   
“I know. The other members of the crew have reported your special… bond. But in this case, I’m afraid that you don’t have a choice. This is the only way you can get out of this. You may not like it but we both know its true. Let’s say you somehow manage to kill me, which is unlikely. Then you would have to fight your way through my entire ship and manage to escape, which is assuming you can jury-rig my armor to broadcast an authorization code to all the doors between here and there. It isn’t a question of whether I will get the information I desire, but when. If you give it to me you become a hero and save your crew. If not, then you are condemning yourself, your crew, and even your beloved captain. This is the only truly good thing to do: for yourself, for your rebellion, for your captain, for your galaxy. A minute of your time and you can save everyone. You know what you have to do.”  
He proffered his datapad to her, it displayed a recreation of the terminal from her room. There was a bar in the center flashing expectantly, demanding her to input her personal access code. The characters swam large in her eyes as they misted over. She turned away not wanting to watch her hands enter the code. Somehow if she didn’t see it, it felt like less of a sin. She felt trapped, disoriented, and alone, and this was her only escape, she hated that it had to be this way; hated that she was proving that smug ISB bastard right. She hated all of it, and herself most of all as the happy synthetic click from the datapad confirmed her access to the encrypted files of the crew.  
“Thank you for your cooperation.” Lottan grinned beatifically. “ I know it must have been hard for you, but you made the right call.”   
She was aware in her periphery that a pair of stormtroopers and a naval officer had come into the room at some point and were now advancing on her. She didn’t care anymore. They lifted her up and carried her with surprising gentleness out into the hall. The man in the white armor followed his eyes skimming rapidly through the information displayed on the datapad. He seemed to catch on one particular sentence, his lips soundlessly repeating an unknown phrase.   
“Can I ask you a question?” She said turning to look at him as they began to turn separate ways   
“You already did, but sure, give it a shot” He laughed.  
“What are you going to do with that information?”  
His smile took on a cruel quality and his eyes glinted with some barely contained manic darkness. He switched the datapad for some form of collar which he dropped around his head as he answered.  
“I’m going to interrogate your captain of course. The rest of you are tactically useless, but your captain has valuable information for the war effort. Once he learns that his first officer and surrogate daughter surrendered the access codes willingly, he’ll be much more easily lead down the path towards cooperation and reeducation. I’ll pass his knowledge along, and we’ll be a few redeemed rebel cells closer to our true victory.”  
“You… you lied to me.”   
“Yes, I did, and I don’t regret it. You’ll forgive me someday, there may even be a spot on my crew for when you do.”  
Rinma filled with rage at being duped, at betraying her crew and cause. All her hate at the empire manifested in her hate for this man, all her self loathing rechanneled into resentment of him. Her entourage had slipped a little further ahead while the two were talking, and the officer came back to insistently tug on Rinma’s arm. Quick as lightning she grabbed the officer’s sidearm and shoved the young woman against the floor. She heard noises of surprise from the stormtroopers and was confident they were reaching for their own weapons. They would never draw them in time. She only needed this one clean shot and she could take out an ISB big wig, and would be remembered as a martyr, a hero. She took a deep steadying breath and aimed, and then everything went wrong.  
Lottan slammed his fists together and the entire hall was filled with violet light. A nebulous shifting field of plasma expanded from his collar and covered his face. The light reflected off his armor and the bulkhead compounding and filling her vision. The colors oscillated between indigo and magenta, swirling like a soap bubble. Rinma felt dizzy, she staggered, as her eyes told her she was falling on a completely stationary deck. She slumped against the doorframe of her recently vacated cell. SHe fired at Lottan once, but her shot went wide, pinging harmlessly off the bulkhead. Lottan advanced with nearly inhuman speed and clapped his hands over her ears. She heard more than felt the sizzle as the energy fields around his hands fizzled through her, the stun field sending her spiraling into unconsciousness. Her last sight as the world went black was Lottan emerging from behind the dissolving force field a look of unbridled, lunatic glee on his face.


End file.
